Infinitely Losing My Edge
Yeah, I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge.
The kids are coming up from behind.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge to the kids from Indonesia and from New York.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge to the kids whose footsteps I hear when they get on the decks.
I'm losing my edge to the internet seekers who can tell me every member of every good group from 1968 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Glasgow and Jakarta.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lille kids in little jackets and borrowed nostalgia for the unremembered nineties.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge.
I can hear the footsteps every night on the decks.
But I was there.
I was there in at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the mellotron sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay started up his first band.
I told him, "Don't do it that way. You'll never make a dime."
I was there.
I was the first guy playing Black Moon to the funk kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
Everybody thought I was crazy.
We all know.
I was there.
I was there.
I've never been wrong.
But I'm losing my edge to better-looking people with better ideas and more talent.
And they're actually really, really nice.
I'm losing my edge.
I heard you have a compilation of every good song ever done by anybody.
Every great song by Frankie Knuckles. All the underground hits.
All Wasted Youth tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Lungfish record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Minutemen record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Tommy Roe,
Cecil Taylor,
Peter & Gordon,
Pierre Henry,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Harry Pussy,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Bobby Sherman,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Smog,
The J.B.'s,
Johnny Osbourne,
The Smiths,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
F. McDonald,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
The Move,
Don Cherry,
Section 25,
The Names,
Lightning Bolt,
Marshall Jefferson,
Byron Stingily,
K-Klass,
The Cowsills,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Albert Ayler,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
The Evens,
Eric Dolphy,
Scratch Acid,
Jerry's Kids,
Arab on Radar,
Lyres,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Boz Scaggs,
Marcia Griffiths,
Qualms,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Bizarre Inc.,
Cymande,
Bobby Byrd,
Vladislav Delay,
Sixth Finger,
the Soft Cell,
The Fire Engines,
Minnie Riperton,
Audionom,
The Wake,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Loose Ends,
Pylon,
Jacob Miller,
Eddi Front,
ABBA,
Pagans,
The Detroit Cobras,
Toni Rubio, Toni Rubio, Toni Rubio, Toni Rubio.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.